False Flag
by Salysha
Summary: Chris will save Piers, even at the price of his soul. Post-RE6. Reluctant slash, Chris/Piers.
1. Lie Like Crazy

**Disclaimer**: Resident Evil and Resident Evil characters are the property of Capcom. This is nonprofit fan fiction.

**Warnings**: Slash, m/m. Reluctant romance. Gore. Multi-chaptered AU. **Spoilers for RE6.**

**Genre**: Romance, angst, hurt/comfort.

**Pairing**: Chris/Piers

Hi, thanks for clicking in. I'll tell you immediately how this is going to play out, and you can make the educated choice of venturing in or moving on. This will be m/m romance, consummated, without one man being drawn to it. No coercion.

There are two possible endings: either Chris keeps the secret to the end and they end the romantic involvement amicably for other reasons, or Piers learns the truth. The ending isn't optimistic, but it isn't hopelessly unhappy, either: no character death, no hostility. Respect and friendship keep even if intimacy fails.

* * *

**False Flag**

by Salysha

* * *

**Chapter 1**: Lie Like Crazy

"No! Don't do this. Open the door! Piers!"

Chris was pounding on the door and pleading, but Piers never moved. The eyes begged forgiveness, and showed no remorse for having none.

Under the circumstances, Chris Redfield did the only thing he could think of. "I love you, Piers. Don't do this to me. Don't leave me like this!" He pounded the door, but Piers didn't move. Chris hammered the door one last time and doubled over with a sob. It was over. He had lost his last man.

Unexpected noise broke the surrounding soundscape: the hatch opened with a swoosh.

Chris pulled up, stupefied. Piers stood before him, visible through the crack of the doors. "Get in," Chris said and grabbed Piers before he could change his mind. Piers sank to the bottom of the pod. "We're getting out of here. Hold on."

Chris was working the controls as fast as he could, securing the door and executing launch. The place was coming apart. Still, he heard the waning rasp from the floor.

"Cap-tain..."

Piers was looking at him, no doubt regretful at giving in and pondering a path of self-sacrifice instead. Chris tapped the buttons to make sure the door stayed locked and scooted on the floor beside him. "You did the right thing, Piers. We're gonna come through, together. You understand me? You're gonna make it." Chris curled a hand around Piers' neck. "I know you can fight this."

Piers' head nodded, eyes firmly deflected from Chris' gaze. Chris squeezed Piers' neck and bolted up. Seconds later, he struggled to stay on his feet as the escape pod hurled into deep water.

In their world, nothing stayed down.

The monster wasn't dead. That thing was still alive, and Chris could only watch helplessly as it latched onto the escape pod and set out to take it down. They had come so close to making it, but he had nothing left to fight it.

The underwater facility did them one favor to redeem all the ill deeds. As the structures collapsed, a horrifying power surge cut through the ocean in an arc and killed the monster. They were free, and rising to the surface. Chris checked on Piers. He met a tired look that wasn't quite there. "You're gonna be fine," he soothed.

They still had ways to go to the surface. Chris dropped down and hugged Piers to himself. He could feel Piers burrowing onto him.

* * *

Anyone but Leon piloting the helicopter, and they'd have never been allowed in. No one wanted a mutating B.O.W. on their ride, especially one carrying emotional baggage. He disclosed Piers' condition and insisted that the transformation wasn't complete. Leon didn't like it any more, but he gave them a chance. He didn't stand in the way when Chris managed the inhuman feat of getting them both in the air with a rescue sling on Piers and a wonky rope ladder on himself. That woman he was with—_Helena_—remained positively vehement; she kept her gun drawn the entire time. Leon didn't rein in her threat, but he led by example; even at the sight of Piers, he still kept his gun holstered and carefully controlled his expression.

"Leon. Get someone who knows something on the line. A doctor, a scientist, anything."

Leon nodded over his shoulder. He spoke on the com, but as Piers started moving about, he sprung into action.

"Helena, I need you to take the helm," he said.

Chris listened peripherally as Helena protested, but his focus was on securing Piers and the gear. Just as he managed to clear the space, Leon was standing next to him.

"There's got to be a medical kit around here somewhere," Chris said without looking. He wasn't sure what his plan was, but he was thinking he could concoct some kind of a mixture that would buy them time, even if chances of finding useful medication onboard were slim.

"His hand," Leon suddenly said.

The mutated hand had grown stronger, less controlled in movement. Even Piers stared at it with panicked disbelief before letting out a pained cry. The hand was developing a mind of its own.

"Fight it, Piers. Fight it!"

"Chris," Leon said quietly and pulled him aside. A symbolic gesture, since they had no real privacy. They both threw a worried look at the hand, swinging dangerously, clenching and unclenching. Emitting faint blue surges. "I know you want to save him, but are you sure it's him anymore?"

Chris vacillated between them. Piers' eyes wandered and fixed on him briefly, but then clouded in pain. "It's still Piers. You don't need to tell me, but I'm_ sure_."

He saw the doubt, and he couldn't blame their rescuer for it. If it hadn't been for the broken _Chris_ catching them both by surprise, he wouldn't have been able to convince Leon. "Hang in there. You're doing good, Piers," he said encouragingly. To Leon, "Anyone?"

"No one's picking up." Leon's expression was stony. The look he gave Piers was hesitant and... resigned. He eyed the transfigured man with apprehension.

"Do you have first aid sprays?" Chris said suddenly.

"Yeah. The chopper's loaded, even when there isn't anything else useful. I'll get them."

"Let me see that medical kit, too." Chris murmured an encouraging word to Piers and managed a gruff smile. He wasn't sure if any of that registered. Leon tossed the kit in his lap and he rummaged it through. No analgesics.

Chris straightened on his feet and said steadily, "Leon, I'm going to take out that arm before it takes out Piers and us. It's your call, but I suggest you leave."

Leon stuck around with a warning to Helena to keep it steady despite any sounds she heard.

Chris took his assault rifle. "Forgive me, Piers."

A knock on the head, and Piers' world went black. Chris took the emergency axe and started hacking.

Raccoon City survivor, hailed champion of the Los Illuminados defeat, Leon looked away.

After, Chris used the sprays to close the wounds the best he could and wrapped Piers in a rescue blanket. Meanwhile, Leon tossed the arm into the ocean. Neither said a word.

Leon still didn't say a word when Chris took over Helena's piloting position. Her eyes flashed fright when she saw his look, but she caught Leon's warning. Chris assumed controls as Leon took the co-pilot's position. Out of the corner of his eye, Leon saw Helena kneel next to Piers.

"I prefer fixed-wing," Chris said tonelessly as the helicopter sped to twice the speed they'd been traveling under Leon's helm. He said nothing about the hand on his back.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

**Great thanks** to **Gypsie** (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!

**Published** October 31, 2012. Revised January 2013.


	2. Means to an End

**Chapter 2**: Means to an End

Chris was flying blind. He had reached the hospital, only to stop at the realization that he had no idea what to expect. Piers was awake. Piers had responded well to the treatment he hadn't known existed. He had thought Piers would be placed in a state of hibernation, cryostatic sleep, induced coma—_something_—until they could figure out a cure. He hadn't placed any hope on quick results.

Yet here he was, after seemingly little time elapsed, going to see a live patient. Piers had to be alive if they had termed him awake and called him about it. He hadn't seen Piers since giving him over for medical care; they had returned to the States at different times, and Chris had been in the dark about Piers' welfare. He didn't know if Piers was himself or if there had been damage. Even if Piers was himself, there was no telling if he remembered the last moments of their escape—if Piers remembered his words.

They had haunted him since.

He had suspected conflicted feelings from Piers. Piers was so intense, so driven in their creed, but he always seemed to carry an extra ounce of dedication around him. The attention he paid, the fierceness he displayed, suspiciously stretched to personal interest. Chris had noticed his affection and done his best to keep it curbed. He figured it was something Piers needed to think through on his own.

Piers had always been professional, and he supposed the status quo could have kept indefinitely, except now he had opened the door. Chris pushed through the entryway and shoved doubt in the back of his mind.

Piers had been placed in a military hospital that hosted the occasional BSAA patient. Their number was too small—soldiers befallen to bioterrorism rarely had use for medical treatment. Chris made it up a few floors, making note that it wasn't a quarantine section. Signage didn't point to intensive care, either.

"Redfield, for Piers Nivans," he announced and was directed to the right room.

Chris opened the door.

Piers occupied the sole bed in the room. He was lying on his back, staring off into the distance. From what Chris could see, there was a full man tucked in bed, hooked on medical equipment purposed for monitoring rather than life-sustaining. Piers lifted his gaze and swept it fleetingly on him.

"Captain."

Chris dropped his head. _Thank God._ He fought his affection as he approached the bed, managing a small smile. "Hey, you."

Piers eyed him cautiously, but the affection drew him out of his shell. Piers turned his head, gradually showing more of himself. The scarring was extensive. Adhesives tore across his face, but the silicone tapes were filmy enough to reveal dark markings cutting the skin. One eye was unnaturally large, tinged with opaque white, but those were hollow remnants of the C-Virus scare; he couldn't see signs of active mutation. Everyone else looked at Piers with horror or sympathy, but Chris was filled with nothing but relief. Piers flicked his left hand hesitantly, and Chris took it.

"How are you feeling?"

Piers sighed. "Alive, I guess." Chris' eyes were on him, anxious. "All right, considering."

Piers didn't sound okay. He sounded defeated, biting down to keep from breaking down. Chris couldn't blame him for his listlessness, but it didn't ache any less. Piers looked so forlorn.

"They couldn't save the arm."

Chris' chest constricted unbearably. He had quietly confirmed the missing limb and buried hopes of a miracle. "Piers, it's my fault. I am so sorry. It was me— I took it out." So help him God, he could never atone for the fact. He wanted to pull away, but Piers wouldn't let go.

"No, no..." Piers was frowning. He momentarily forgot to avert his eyes to throw Chris a confused look. "It kept the infection contained. You saved me. I guess I just—"

The pause grew heavy.

"It's a lot to deal with," Chris said sotto voce.

Piers nodded mutely. Jaw clenched, he stared the other way tightly.

Piers' hand was still in his. A clap on the shoulder, a pat on the back, you had those in the line of duty, but he was holding hands with his point man. Chris rubbed a thumb over Piers' knuckles and held on.

"How long have you been awake?" The health information seemed too specific for someone who had just woken up.

"A couple of days."

Chris startled. "What? Piers, I didn't know. I only got the call today. I would've come sooner if I—"

"Yeah, I know," Piers said shortly.

Chris was pretty sure he understood, and didn't press further.

Piers' guilt trip was far from over. He withdrew his hand and huddled to himself. "After I railed at you for pulling a kamikaze stunt..."

"Hey. The difference was yours saved the world. Mine wouldn't have saved anyone."

"So a means to an end?"

Chris felt something chip his heart. Piers had no idea how he was hearing those words. He made himself smile. "Something like that."

"Captain, about what you said back there—" Piers never continued.

"Yeah?"

Piers was eyeing him, almost desperately, and then, he just... deflated.

Chris cursed to himself. The kid probably thought he was so mutilated and repulsive no one was gonna want to be with him. There was no way to tell him now that his love confession had been a ruse to talk Piers out of suicide. Piers would be humiliated.

He kissed Piers because that's what he thought Piers wanted. He had never kissed a man—hadn't even considered the possibility. Piers kissed him back. When he pulled up, Piers' eyes carried a hint of a smile.

"Captain."

Chris made a wry face. "I think, under the circumstances, you should call me Chris," he said dryly.

That earned him a fleeting grin. Piers, who rarely smiled and almost never laughed, the man who had pulled back from the brink of death for him, was smiling because of him. He felt even more of a bastard. He could also see that Piers was nodding off. The visit had drained him.

"Piers, you need to rest. Get your strength back. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?"

Piers considered it. "Come back?" he said in a small voice.

Piers shouldn't have had to ask. Piers really didn't know if he was gonna bolt. Without this, whatever _this_ was, he wouldn't have thought anything of it. Everything he said now carried an extra nuance. Chris' voice grew hoarse. "You bet."

He did have to say something truthful on his own accord, though, even if Piers read more into it.

"I'm glad you're here." He hesitated, but then he lifted his hand and brushed his fingers against Piers' temple.

He waited a little while until Piers closed his eyes, looking less unhappy than before. Chris left the room quietly and stormed the rest of the way out of the hospital. Piers wanted something he wasn't able to give. He didn't have it in him, and his way of telling was leading the guy on. It begged the question: What the hell was he doing?

**T.B.C.**

* * *

**Hearty thanks** to **Gypsie** for the proofreading!

**Published **December 2, 2012. Revised January 2013.


	3. Shotgun Wedding with a Modern Twist

**Chapter 3**: Shotgun Wedding with a Modern Twist

"They are talking about getting a myoelectric prosthesis. Apparently, something good came out of that wretched virus. It kept the nerve endings undamaged."

It was the first Piers had spoken since the initial greeting. Piers had been slipping in and out, but Chris was sure he'd been awake quite some time. He hadn't wanted to intrude, and had instead taken a seat to check through the reports he had brought along, keeping quiet company. Piers had the TV remote loosely in his grasp, but he hadn't changed channel for ages. The volume was turned low.

"That's good," Chris said reassuringly.

"It's supposed to be some kind of a fancier extension. The good that'll do. It's over for me. There's not gonna be any career left when you get maimed this badly."

"You don't know that." Chris could see Piers' desolate expression, and said forcefully, "Piers, _I_ don't know. If I knew, I'd tell you."

He wouldn't let the matter go until Piers finally conceded and nodded, despite the forlorn resignation. He wasn't having any of that.

"Don't be so harsh on yourself. It's only been a little time," Chris said, gentler. "Something else, though. I don't want to pry, but I really haven't caught many details about your condition."

The resigned heave told him that the question hadn't come unexpected. "Shoot."

"The virus is purged?"

"It's gone."

"Are you right- or left-handed?" Chris asked aloud and wanted to apologize instantly. He should know this. It was such an idiotic thing to ask, but Piers struck him as ambidextrous at times. Piers was forgiving, though, and only twisted his lip thoughtfully.

"I can do some things with both hands, but... predominantly righty."

"What about your eye? Can you see with it?"

"A little. Some. Yeah, I can see with it," Piers admitted. He seemed oddly uncomfortable. "There's a chance that the color might go back to normal—that it's just a trauma response—but that's not very likely. I see fine; it's just a mess." He gestured at his face without great enthusiasm, but Chris only shook his head.

"You got your battle scars," he said mildly. "All right, third degree's almost over. How's the rest of ya?"

Piers sank back onto the pillows. "I don't know. It's like they took out something that belonged there when they removed the virus. I'm not used to feeling so... powerless."

The bed rest probably wasn't helping much. Chris eyed Piers, who had let his eyes drift closed.

"Let's walk a little. See what's around here."

"Hm?"

"There isn't really any reason why you'd have to keep lying down, is there, as long as you don't overdo it?" He knew Piers had to get up once in a while, but the nurses usually assisted him. He'd once helped Piers to the bathroom and stayed behind the door. He seemed fine with the walking, just had trouble with balance and tired easily.

Piers looked doubtful, but as Chris beckoned to him, he seemed to go for the idea and started to push himself up. It was clearly an effort, but Chris let him fend for himself. Piers got to his feet, and Chris helped a robe on him and fished out a pair of hospital slippers.

He gathered his own papers from where they lay and grabbed his coat, and together, they started for the door. Piers was holding himself up all right, but it was slow going. They made it past the front desk, where Chris informed the staff that they weren't running away, only going to look around. They took an elevator down a few floors, with Piers taking every opportunity to rest against any surface he could find. Chris steadied him, but Piers only winced.

"Jesus, like I'd never walked before."

"You're doing good. Don't worry about it."

They shuffled to the lobby area of one of the outpatient clinics, mainly in the interest of sightseeing and looking at people. Chris glanced at the man; Piers looked labored.

"Let's sit down. Over there." He picked up a gurney that sat unattended and helped Piers on it. The disposable paper sheet scrunched under their weight. "How you doing?"

"Hunky-dory." Piers was collecting his breath. Chris ran a sympathetic hand over his back and focused on the bustling of people. They had nothing to lean on, but Chris propped his arm behind Piers' back, offering his strength for support. He wasn't thinking anything much until Piers rested his hand briefly on his thigh. Way up.

His attention darted over. He met a hopeful grin, one he didn't know how to respond to. He gave a rueful smile back, but it reassured Piers, and they returned to staring at the crowd. The hand was gone, but something unexpected stood out amid the bustle.

Chris stared. "What's _he_ doing here?"

Out of all the people, there was Leon, talking with someone. Leon glanced in their direction and held up a hand.

"He's the one who—"

"I remember." Piers averted his eyes and looked uncomfortable.

Chris kept by Piers' side as Leon crossed over to them, a stack of folders under his arm. He exchanged greetings with Chris and lifted the folders a nudge.

"I had to drop off a few files here and heard you might be around. Thought I'd drop by later to see how you were doing."

"Since when do they have you running errands, Leon?"

"Career move?" Leon offered. "I was passing through town anyway, so I thought I'd take care of this on the way."

Chris grunted, raising his hands. Wasn't his business if Leon wanted to be vague about it. Those files were probably classified as hell and something too important to be shared electronically. As he pondered this and that, Leon had already turned to Piers.

"Hi. We were never properly introduced. Leon Kennedy." Leon held out his left hand.

The moment Piers took to react was only fractional.

"Piers Nivans. Good to meet you, sir."

Chris saw amusement touch Leon's face. He hoped Piers hadn't caught it.

Leon was gazing at Piers intently, but his scrutiny ended in a small smile, and Piers was introduced to the second person after Chris who didn't shirk from him.

"Glad to see you're doing so well," he said sincerely, voice deep and musing. "Listen, I hate to cut and run like this, but I have to see these files through. I hope we get to catch up another time."

"Yeah, sure, Leon."

As Leon left with a nod at them both, Chris and Piers were left alone. Chris had a thoughtful look on his face, but then he dismissed absent parties from his musings and said out loud, "Ready?"

"Yeah, might as well." Piers found his feet and glanced at Chris expectantly.

"We should head back." Chris felt like a spoilsport to cut the tour, but Piers actually seemed relieved he wasn't pushed for more. The fatigue must have been taking over again.

They hadn't made it back to Piers' ward when two staff members came up to them. "Piers Nivans? We were looking for you."

Chris sharpened, but Piers hunched, sheepish. "I forgot. Physio."

"Oh. Right. You gonna be all right?" Chris had to check.

"Yeah, thanks. I'll manage."

Piers left with the men who seemed fit enough to help him along if his balance didn't carry, and Chris was left in the air. Chris straightened his jacket and hovered aimlessly. Piers would probably be in session for a while; his best bet was to leave and make something useful of himself. He'd come back the next day. He took a moment to freshen up, but didn't see a reason to stall further. He was just about to clear out when something stopped him.

"Chris." Leon had materialized out of nowhere, empty-handed. "I was just going for a drink or maybe to eat something. Care to join me?"

Chris hesitated, but he didn't have anything here. Piers had other engagements. Piers would be taken care of. "All right," he conceded.

They reached the hospital cafeteria, which Chris had assumed to be their destination, but Leon said almost instantly, "It's too noisy in there. Let's do something down the street. Doesn't have to be far."

Chris took one look at him. "Sure."

Chris went along and was led off the hospital grounds to the first bar they came across. It was a small place, with few clientele during the day. He watched without expression as Leon got a drink for himself and secured a booth for them. The turn landed on him, and he hesitated. A beer would've been fine, but he better not, even if Leon seemed fine with a little drinking on the job. He took a coffee.

Chris pushed into the booth. Leon sprawled on the other side, dangling his feet over the edge of the seat. Leon acknowledged him with a fleeting glance and returned to staring at his drink.

"Chris... what's going on with you and Piers?"

Chris stared. At length, levelly, "You wanna elaborate so I can be sure I'm hearing the question right?"

Leon was fidgeting a little, frowning to himself. "Back there, I couldn't help noticing you were very... friendly. You seem _real close_."

He left the curtain-raiser up for grabs.

How had he...? It hit home. Leon had seen Piers frisk him up. "There is... something."

Leon didn't interrupt. Chris debated with himself. He surprised even himself in the end.

"When we were escaping that underwater oil field, he decided to do the noble thing. He'd been infected, and he was gonna stay behind and make me the sole survivor. I could only think of one thing to say that'd make him change his mind and... I now find myself in some kind of a... relationship. Partnership."

"But you aren't gay," Leon said flatly.

"You tellin' me?" Chris' laugh was humorless.

More than one thing struck Chris as whimsically droll. Leon telling his private life off the top of his head and being spot-on about it, too. The fact they were having this discussion.

"I'm guessing... he's into it?" Leon probed carefully.

Chris' silence was answer enough.

"It must be difficult."

"You really wanna hear this?"

"I'm asking."

"There's no way I could let him down easily now. It's not him, but after what happened, with the mauling he took... Hell, Leon, it'd only seem like..."

Leon's look was grim. He got the picture.

Chris hmphed mirthlessly. "Never figured I'd see myself in a position like this."

Leon's look was sly. "You've never considered getting it on with a guy? Never? A military man like you?"

"That'd be the Navy, not Air Force," Chris said with a grin. "But truthfully, no. Hasn't occurred to me."

He and Leon had never been close. Maybe that was why it was so easy to talk to him now. He wasn't too close to the situation.

It took him a moment to hear what hadn't been said outright. _"You?!"_

Leon shrugged. "Why not? I was young once."

Chris wasn't sure it alleviated his pain, but the nonchalant confession tightened his chest. It made him feel like he wasn't alone with conflicting thoughts. Coming from an intensely private person like Leon, the confession felt like a vote of confidence. Leon didn't seem to make much of it, but it was hard to tell what Leon was thinking.

Leon was nothing but soft-spoken when he finally spoke again. "Chris... it's one hell of a situation. I don't envy you."

"Shotgun wedding with a modern twist," he said ruefully. He knew he could trust Leon to keep his mouth shut. He twirled the coffee in his hand and didn't feel like having even the first taste.

Leon untangled his feet, throwing a veiled gaze. "I should get going. Next assignment's already waiting. I really just thought I'd stop by when in the neighborhood."

"Glad ya did," Chris admitted.

"You planning to have any of that?" Leon gave a pointed look at his coffee.

"Gonna try yours?"

Leon hid his smile. They abandoned the untouched drinks and hauled out to the street. Their ways parted almost immediately as Chris eyed the hospital parking lot and Leon's path took him somewhere else. The time allowed goodbyes this time.

"Thanks, Leon. For everything you did," Chris said.

"You would've done the same, Chris," Leon dismissed, but he bowed his head a little. His voice didn't lack sympathy when he spoke. "Take care."

Chris shook hands with Leon, who grabbed his arm for further measure. And then Leon was gone, and he was left alone fending a fight he couldn't win, even though at the privacy of his head, he had already reached the only logical conclusion for his next course of action.

* * *

The prosthetics were contracted from an outside clinic, and Piers was invited for a visit. It would be weeks before they could proceed with the fitting, but the invitation was extended cordially and presented as a chance to get familiar with the idea and address any concerns in advance. The hospital would have arranged transportation, but Chris offered to take Piers himself, and Piers took up the offer.

Chris entered Piers' room in good time, only to realize he should've knocked. He was faced with Piers, wrestling to get into his pants and failing to keep the waist up long enough to close the zipper. Piers realized he wasn't alone, mortified, and angrily tried to hold the pants up by trapping them between the bed and his backside, but the pants were a little too loose.

That was the pair he'd fetched from Piers' locker. Christ, he'd picked those pants for Piers, and hadn't once thought how Piers was going to manage them.

Chris instantly made it to his side and replaced Piers' grip with his own hands. He did the pants up and closed them, barely daring to think what lay underneath. "This is just for now. It's not always gonna be like this," he said, voice low and thick, even as Piers recoiled from him, fighting a breakdown, face contorted in humiliation and embarrassment.

A nurse stormed into the worst chaos, and Chris quickly dismissed her. Privacy was again granted, and desolation was all theirs. Piers tried not to show his face, but he didn't put up a fight as Chris pulled his head to his shoulder. "It's sweats for you now."

Suddenly, the tenseness hit killswitch. The resistance dropped, and Piers gripped him desperately with one hand. Chris rubbed fingers in Piers' hair comfortingly and enveloped an arm around his back.

Piers half-hugged him before pulling apart, and Chris tactfully went to look for shoes, while Piers rubbed his face and regained his composure. He seemed more collected already by the time the shoes were on, despite the cloudy eyes.

They were still well ahead of schedule. Piers must have started well ahead on his own to manage as far as he had. Chris took the familiar seat he'd come to think of as his own, while Piers remained sitting on the bed, dangling his feet to the ground.

That was the first he'd seen Piers' face without adhesives covering it. The cuts on the right side of his face, extending to his forehead, were covered by the same silicone tapes, but the dark lesions were less prominent and slightly less expansive. The rest of his face was completely uncovered, though. Chris stopped for a good regard.

"That looks amazingly good."

Piers wavered between looking pleased and self-conscious. "They are using laser treatment."

"Laser?" Chris echoed. His brow furrowed. "Like, peeling skin off?"

"No. Bright light. Just light. It's supposed to be the next best thing in the medical field. No drugs. Increases blood flow and lets the body fight it out on its own."

Chris nodded thoughtfully. The scars really did look a lot healthier. They tinged the skin, but while facial scars tended to make constant companions, Piers' were looking much better, and in such a short time, too.

"We're not hard-pressed for time, but do you want to go already? We can go joyriding. Maybe even find a shortcut or two," Chris offered. He had something on his heart, but it was going to wait until later.

Piers stifled a noise at that.

* * *

Chris waited until he had collected Piers from the appointment, and Piers was back in bed before he thought of bringing the subject up, but seeing Piers so hopelessly exhausted, he was having second thoughts on his timing. His resolve only strengthened, though.

He knew he was digging his own grave, but it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing he could do. Piers wasn't meek. Piers was anything but helpless, but Piers was also fiendishly proud, dedicated, and having doubts. He would to do this, even when it meant inviting complications with both hands.

"Chris?"

"There's something I wanted to run by you, Piers. It doesn't have to be now if you're tired."

Piers tensed immediately. "What is it?"

Chris knew the reaction well; they rarely had good news. "Relax. It's nothing bad, I hope. You'll be released soon, right?"

Piers settled back, seemed disappointed. "Yeah. I'm supposed to get out, come back for physio sessions and things like that, but it's outpatient."

"Yeah, I figured as much. There's something I've been thinking about, but hear me out first. And you're not obliged in any way." The disclaimers out of the way, Chris found Piers' undivided attention on him. He thought about his approach and went for gentle candor. "I know it's not easy right now. You need to rest and recover, and that's just how it is; these things take time. I was thinking it might be easier if you didn't go living on your own yet and was wondering if you'd rather come stay with me."

Chris stared at the floor, cleared his throat, smiled wistfully.

"My place isn't anything grand, but there's enough room for two. You don't have to say anything right now."

In the end, he wasn't surprised when Piers accepted.

**T.B.C.**

* * *

**Many thanks** to **Gypsie** for the proofreading!

**Published** January 26, 2013.


	4. Domestic

**Chapter 4**: Domestic

Now that they were set to go, Piers seemed oddly shy of leaving. He was stalling and staving, and Chris couldn't really decide whether he should be amused or exasperated. He'd been cleared to go, and Chris had his things packed. When Piers emerged from the bathroom the second time, he decided a nudge in the right direction was needed.

"Ready?"

When Piers squirmed and sneaked an uncomfortable peek toward the bathroom door again, Chris felt it was time to put his foot down.

"You know when you need to be here next?"

"Yeah, I got a schedule. It was the sheet on the desk. Did you—"

"Everything's packed. Time to go, Piers."

Piers couldn't resist the gentle push. Chris took off with his bag, and he tailed after Chris miserably. They made the trek across floors, through the lobby, right down to the exit. Piers kept close to him and seemed to draw comfort in his presence.

The world got that much more intimidating outside the hospital door.

Piers' hesitancy returned before they were even out. He slowed in front of the glass doors that opened at irregular swooshes, turning his head to the side. Chris noticed.

"The light getting to you?"

"A little," Piers admitted.

Chris dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out his shades. "Here. Use mine."

Piers eyed the pair hesitantly. "Don't you need them yourself?"

"Nah, I'm used to it."

Chris got Piers to accept the pair, and they finally made it out, Piers hiding behind his sunglasses. They took little time to reach the front row.

"Over here." Chris pointed to the black Rover. Piers gave a curious look at his civilian car.

Chris placed the bag into the back, while Piers climbed onto the passenger seat. The plan was to go to Piers' place first and get his things, then get him settled at Chris'. Chris had found a way to talk to him about living arrangements, and they'd both agreed that this was a temporary setup, not permanently moving in. He was proud of himself that he'd at least managed to clear that up. He had no idea how to go about suggesting an absolute lack of intimacy between them.

He'd already keyed in Piers' address—the one he'd gotten from papers. "Sat nav, or do you want to give directions?"

"I don't care. Nav."

Chris tapped the screen and pulled out.

Piers didn't say much during the drive. He kept a thoughtful vigil over the route, taking in the landscape, occasionally glancing at Chris.

Chris let him be. He eyed the screen from time to time, but the drive went by undisturbed. Only when they neared a yellow apartment complex did Piers perk up. "It's the one over there. Brown door. You can pull at front; parking's free for two hours."

Chris instantly confiscated the best parking spot in front of the house.

Piers got out of the car haltingly by the time Chris had taken a detour at the trunk.

"I took a couple of suitcases with me. You don't need to use these if you've got something better," Chris said with a shrug as he took in the building.

Piers' eyes lit up. "Those would be great, actually. Thanks." Piers fished for his key in his pocket and wrestled through the front door.

Chris followed him, feeling out of place. He had never seen where Piers lived. They worked together closely and well, but it was such an odd thing to associate in civilian clothes, in each other's apartments. It was out of place, and maybe Piers was coming to terms with the same thing.

As soon as they reached the foyer and cracked open the mailbox, the time that had passed became imminently concrete. "Oh, Christ," Piers swore under his breath. He reached in, but let his hand drop with a frustrated frown. "Can you get them?"

"Yeah, of course," Chris said. He scooped up a thick wad of mail—bills and all sort of things—and let Piers key the box back shut. He weighed the white mass in his hand, but Piers' uneasy scowl had him drop his voice to a comforting note. "We'll sort this out later."

Piers agreed wordlessly, and they moved on, up the elevator, eventually coming to Piers' apartment and wrestling through the deadbolts and locks.

Sun-warmed, stale room air greeted them. Piers pushed in, and Chris followed in his tow. He stayed behind, while Piers strolled around the apartment and took everything in. Chris had almost forgotten he hadn't been home in weeks and held back, while Piers reminded himself what his life had been before the China tragedy. Piers came back and showed him to the bedroom. "Over there."

Chris laid the suitcases open side by side on the bed, so they could be filled up easily. He placed the mail inside.

"Don't worry about sheets or towels or anything like that, unless you want something specific. I've got plenty of that stuff. Just take what you need to make yourself at home and comfortable."

After a moment's thought, Piers started opening his closets and dressers. Chris left him to pack in peace. He started by cranking the windows open in the living room and cleaning up the kitchen.

He stuffed most goods in the fridge into garbage bags and wiped the surfaces with a moist cloth. He cleared the dishes and peered into the dry cabinets just long enough to catch the bread that would've developed life without intervention.

Once the kitchen was done, Chris went back to check on Piers. He found Piers staring in his closet at a neatly pressed BSAA uniform. Chris crept by his shoulder and tried to read his mind.

"I think you should take it."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I do."

Piers wavered and then nodded. He pulled out the hanger and laid it on top of the pile himself, almost reverently. Chris gave him a small, approving smile and went to continue his work in the other room.

The living room was next. Piers had a healthy-looking jade plant, which Chris watered and moved out of the sun, along with an evergreen plant that he didn't recognize. Smart choices for a man whose days kept him late. He debated with himself a little and decided to go all the way. He went over the place with a vacuum cleaner, even though Piers manifested at the first sound and protested feebly. He finished by going over the surfaces with a moist wipe.

He poked his head in just long enough to ask Piers for his key and went to take out the trash.

As he got back, he joined Piers. "You didn't really need to do all that, Chris. But thanks," Piers said, slightly flushed.

"It's not a problem. It's always more fun to clean up for someone else," Chris said good-naturedly.

Piers curled a little smile. "True," he agreed.

One suitcase was full; the other one had little in yet. Next to them, Piers had laid out a pile of clothes in hangers. They ended up forming a bucket brigade with clothes, with Piers handing him things, and Chris packing them away neatly. Piers left to grab an extra pair of sneakers and get personal stuff from the bathroom, and with little trouble, they were done. Piers' things were packed up, and the apartment was straightened out and clean.

Piers scanned around and then nodded to himself. Chris gave him one suitcase, while he took the other and the stack of clothes himself. When Piers didn't find any last-minute regrets outside, Chris started the car and plotted the course to his own place.

* * *

The drive was longer this time, close to three quarters of an hour. Despite the initial interest in the direction where they were heading, Piers dozed off and only perked up when Chris was taking the final turns before pulling up.

"I'm surprised you don't live in a house."

"I used to," Chris admitted as he shifted gears and cut the engine. "Then I got tired of all the housework; there was always something to fix. You'd take care of the yard, then go on a mission, and do the same thing again. And, surprisingly, you get more privacy like this. The neighbors don't bother you and they don't get nosy. The small talk over the mailbox on how the day at work was got kind of awkward."

"Makes sense," Piers conceded.

"Besides, the bigger the place, the more junk you hoard. An apartment keeps the junk levels decent. I thought you'd been here?"

"Excuse me?"

"Someone took care of the place while I was away. I thought it was you." Clearly, it hadn't been. His place had been kept clean; the bills had been taken care of. He had assumed it must've been Piers, which had in turn sent his guilt levels soaring when he realized he hadn't thought to do the same.

"Oh. No, wasn't me personally. I mean, I had someone take care of it, but I haven't been here."

They made the same hauling arrangements out of the garage and up to the apartment: Piers took one suitcase, and Chris loaded the rest. Piers definitely cheered in the new surroundings; he took in the environment furtively, sniper's mind taking in details that most ignored. He was relaxed, though, just interested, and followed Chris up all the way.

Chris opened the door and snapped the lights on. "All right, here we go. Come on in."

The introductions were brief. The narrow entryway led to a spacious living room on the left and kitchen facilities on the right. There was a door right opposite to the entrance, cracked open to show a peek of the bedroom that shared wall with the living room, and two more doors lining up the entryway.

"Just one bathroom. Sorry. I hope it's all right."

"Of course it is."

"My bedroom's over there, and here's yours." Chris nudged the door open to reveal neutral-colored walls that matched the rest of the apartment. He went in just long enough to lay out the clothes and bags on the bed. "I cleared out a couple of closets for you. If you need more space, just let me know or push my stuff out of the way."

"Hey, I just want to say this. If you need help with something, just tell me. All right? No questions asked. Here's your key." Chris took out an extra key and placed it in easy view.

Piers craned a curious look in, but seemed oddly thoughtful.

"Separate rooms?" The tone sounded slightly disappointed.

"You need your space," Chris said firmly.

"Hey, Chris?"

"Yeah?"

Piers dropped the suitcase to the floor. Chris turned and found Piers examining him. Piers approached him cautiously, and even though Chris had a fair idea what was happening, he didn't balk. Chris was given every opportunity to back away before Piers reached up and closed their lips together.

The kiss deepened. Piers tilted his head to get into a closer position and shifted to press against Chris. As they kissed, Chris could feel Piers through his pants. His own cock was firmly flaccid. When Piers finally pulled away, he looked Chris straight in the eye.

"Right?"

This was his chance to say something.

Chris' throat felt impossibly tight. "Right."

* * *

The rest of the evening was spent being surprisingly domestic. Piers got settled at his own pace; Chris put together something quick to eat. They sorted through Piers' mail together: Chris opened the letters and left Piers to read through the contents. They came up with a plan to deal with the immediate bills. Piers' hand wasn't exactly in check-writing shape, so Chris would take care of it, and Piers would pay him back later.

For his part, Chris was happy he hadn't missed out anything obvious. He'd gone home the previous night and done a thorough sweep. Cleaned up the living room and cleared out the extra room. He should've gotten it done ages ago, but had always put it off because he hadn't truly needed the space. He'd stopped for a good thought about Piers managing with his hand and ended up emptying a study desk in the living room entirely and moving it to the spare bedroom so that Piers would have an empty surface for laying out things.

His shower came with a handheld showerhead that reacted to pressure change and had an annoying habit of falling off and knocking him on the head, but he'd put off fixing it for a steady six months, even before Edonia. Now, he dug up the tools and fixed the showerhead in place.

The early rise was taking a tax, though. Eventually, Chris called it a night and left Piers watching TV on the couch.

* * *

"Chris?"

Chris awoke with a halted breath. It took a few moments before the dusk made way for discernible shapes. He found Piers next to the bed, in sweats and a tee for the night, drawing back the hand that had been nudging him. The street light made way for a muted shine through the curtains.

"You sounded distressed..." Piers was hesitant.

Chris nodded mutely, let out a breath that felt too loud, and allowed his head to sink back in the bed.

"Bad dream?"

"A memory," Chris said heavily.

His voice was too hoarse and lifeless in his own ears. He had been reliving their last moments: Piers locking the door and sending him off, and him being helpless to stop it. Nightmares wouldn't have been able to paralyze his heart like the real memory. Chris lay back, breathing. Moments passed.

"Move over."

The words startled Chris out of the head space he had fallen in. He looked at Piers as though he had forgotten that Piers had been waiting for him to say something. He wasn't sure what he'd heard.

The words sank in, and Chris obeyed, more surprised than anything. He shifted over to the other side, and Piers sat on the edge. Once he had confirmed for himself what Piers was up to, Chris pulled out the second pillow from under his head and gave it up for sharing. Piers lay down hesitantly next to him, close by, without touching. The silence splintered when Piers turned on his side, gazing at him worriedly.

Piers could be dead... Chris pulled Piers tightly to himself and pressed his eyes shut against the painful memory.

After the initial surprise, Piers lay down and relaxed onto him.

**T.B.C.**

* * *

**Wholehearted thanks** to **Gypsie** for the proofreading!

**Published **June 23, 2013.


	5. Helping Hand, M

**M-rated romance.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**: Helping Hand

The next morning, Chris woke to find Piers sleeping beside him. They had rolled apart during the night, so they were no longer touching, but there he was, right by his side.

Chris slid out of the bed quietly, careful not to wake Piers. He pulled the covers up and made sure Piers was comfortably tucked in before leaving him sleeping, sighing to himself. So much for taking things slow. He slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him. He washed up and took a moment to shave, then trotted to the kitchen. He glanced at the time and decided it wasn't too early to get started.

He had taken care to stock up the fridge with a little bit of everything. He had gotten most of the food chopped, sliced, and cut when possible. In retrospect, he realized he should've gotten more ready-made as well. There was one thing he had set aside on purpose, though. Chris ducked into the fridge and pulled out a packet of bacon strips.

Piers showed up just as he was finishing and pondering whether to go wake him up or let him sleep the extra minutes. Piers tottered to the room, pajama pants crumpled and sleep in his voice. "Hey."

"Morning," Chris greeted back. "This is almost done."

"Uhh?"

Piers looked at the table tiredly and flopped down. Chris poured out two mugs of coffee for them. He also took out juice from the fridge and set it for Piers to study while he went to scoop up food.

"This isn't any kind of a health breakfast," he warned as he laid out two identical plates on the table. He had ladled out two sets of bacon, scrambled eggs, French toast, hash browns, and something green for appearances.

"This is fantastic," Piers said with barely contained enthusiasm. He grabbed a fork and sampled the food carefully. He had gotten more skilled with being left-handed; though his coordination was still a little clumsy, he managed to sample half the food into one forkful and stuff it in in one bite. "This is really good," he said after a few savory bites.

Chris hid behind his coffee, smiling despite himself. He had been thinking Piers wasn't particular about health food, and he had been right. "I wanted to do something special, since it's your first morning here."

"What do you usually like to eat?" Piers asked.

"I usually go out, but I wasn't sure what you'd want to do, so I kind of stocked the fridge with everything. There really aren't stores close by, sorry. The nearest Target is about 3.5 miles away, so either you tell me what you want, or I'll take you after work. There's a convenience store closer by, but truthfully, I wouldn't buy anything from there that's not canned."

"That bad, huh?"

"I'm saying we'll be raiding the place one day if the health department doesn't get to it first," Chris said with a grimace. Piers grinned quickly and stabbed at his plate.

Chris realized time was passing by and started downing the food with quick bites. He sent Piers off while he tidied the kitchen and then got dressed for work. Piers showed up just as he was running a list in his head. "Anything I've forgotten?"

"No, Chris. This is really great." Piers shuffled on his feet.

"All right, but call me if you need anything."

Piers vowed his cooperation and bade him a pleasant day at work, slightly wistful.

He didn't call once during the day. Chris checked his phone a couple of times, but then decided Piers was doing fine on his own and would get in touch if he needed fussing over.

* * *

Chris came home from work and found Piers cocooned on the couch. He moved around quietly and went to get started on dinner. He had a plan how to go about this; he'd fix them meals in the evenings and pick out easy, risotto-like things that could be scooped up and didn't need a knife. He planned to be surreptitious enough so Piers wouldn't figure out what he was doing.

Piers stirred at some point, long enough to peel out of his blankets and join him.

The rest of the evening went by without anything special, maybe a bit of leaning on the couch. Piers fell asleep to the screen, and Chris didn't want to wake him. When the time came for him to retire, he left Piers sleeping in the living room.

Half an hour later, Chris was lying awake, pondering on the goings-on of the world, when a quiet tap on the timber drew his attention. His bedroom door was cranked open a little clumsily and Piers tiptoed in. Piers managed to close the door with a clunk.

His journey continued to the bed, and Chris was faced with a sight that tugged at his heartstrings: Piers, with his covers and pillow tugged under the one arm, asking if he could join him. He couldn't possibly say he didn't want it. He could only move aside and make room beside him. The same repeated every night until Piers stopped asking for permission.

* * *

Chris was more than ready to get the grime out of his hair. He had gone through a day of field training, and like a good leader, he hadn't dodged rolling in the dirt. Chris called out a greeting to Piers and disappeared into the shower as soon as he was through the door. His clothes went straight to the wash with a puff of dust while he climbed to the shower and turned the spray at full blast. He kept the rigorous rinsing and soaping until he was satisfied that the drain water stopped turning gray.

The door creak was quiet, but the waft of cool air finally told him he wasn't alone in the bathroom. Chris turned the spray down just as Piers cracked the shower door open.

"Can I join you?" Piers asked. He gave a quick peek, then looked to the side and pulled out of sight. Chris saw the quiet slip of a towel from his hips and then Piers slipped in the shower with him.

_Completely, fully naked._

Piers faced him, thirsting, naked. Hopeful. Chris gulped. "Hey, you," he said gruffly. He placed palms on Piers' chest. He wasn't sure if it was to keep distance, but Piers seemed to take it for fond touching. He was dripping water, on display himself, fully aware he was being admired. Piers was showing himself completely.

"Hey, yourself."

Piers looked like he wanted to kiss, but Chris stepped back and pushed at his hip. "Turn around."

Piers' grin faltered, but he complied. The spray wetted his chest now in a slow, gentle trickle. Chris reached up and adjusted the showerhead so it didn't beat against Piers' healing scars.

Chris reached a hand around Piers, running a palm over his chest. He could literally feel how Piers' frown melted at the wet glide, and the tension made way for happy excitement.

_It's just a handjob._ For all practical purposes, they were in a relationship, and relationships usually entailed sex. He didn't even know which hand Piers used, if he was even able to have a satisfactory experience, himself... He was just lending a helping hand. _It's just a handjob._

He dropped his hand below and scooped Piers' package in his right hand. He took care to keep his own crotch away, but his purpose was instantly mitigated as Piers backed up into him.

He couldn't back away. Chris steeled himself and stayed on the spot. He ran the length of his hand over Piers' dick and closed a firm hold around it. Piers hardened under the confident, steady strokes, leaning the weight of his body against him. It was smooth and proud in his hand; Piers was lean in his arms.

"Piers?" Chris rasped to his ear.

"It's good, keep going," Piers said between heavy breaths. Piers pressed against him, drawing his member to nestle between his buttocks , rubbing against it innocuously. Chris supported them both up as Piers tensed and came with a muffled pant.

Once Piers found his feet again, he reached a hand behind his back and felt around. Chris stilled as Piers' fingers wrapped around his dick.

"You're not even hard." Piers sounded hurt.

Chris leaned forward, brushing his lips along Piers' neck, and tried to think of something to say.

"This isn't about me," he murmured. He was afraid, only more hopeful, that Piers would catch the hint. Piers didn't.

Piers stayed in his embrace, eventually turning his head to share a kiss, that much more affectionate and lingering.

He left the shower after rinsing off and making sure Piers was steady on his feet and able to manage by himself. Piers stayed behind, affording him a wet glide of skin and a hot look as he passed. He wasn't off the hook yet; Piers came to tap at his door when he was done, and Chris summoned his restraint and followed Piers. This was the kind of help he had offered to provide all along, and it wouldn't be good to lose his cool now. Piers stood still as Chris redressed his shoulder. He did that usually, but usually Piers was wearing pants.

* * *

Piers came to the same bed for the night as a matter of course. The bed had already come to include two sets of pillows and covers. How the evenings went depended on Piers; sometimes he shared the bed, sometimes he snuggled up, sometimes he alternated between the two. That day, he was doing the cuddling. It wasn't bad and it wasn't unpleasant, but it strictly wasn't called for.

Piers was half lying on him, an arm wrapped around him, nudging his jaw at his ribcage. Chris brushed fingers through the flip in his hair and settled back.

"Don't you miss sex?"

"Hm?"

He must've sounded a little freaked out, in a "deer in the headlights" way, because Piers glanced at him guiltily. Trust it to Piers to be upfront. "I mean, we haven't exactly done anything. Before this," he said hastily. "And I haven't been with anyone, and I'm pretty sure you haven't been going around—"

"Of course not."

"—so, I was just wondering what you thought about it. If... you've thought about it."

Piers stopped and left the floor to him. Chris thought about it.

"Sex was never very important to me."

At least Piers wouldn't be able to verify that.

"Really?" Piers sounded amazed and even raised his head to look at him. Chris smiled back tightly.

"I guess I'm not that comfortable making it physical," he admitted.

"You been with guys before?"

Finally, a question he could answer honestly.

"No. Never."

Piers made a noncommittal sound, but Chris got the feeling he wasn't entirely satisfied.

"I'm... nervous." Fictional confessions didn't get more humiliating than that. He could've made up a story that would've discouraged further discussion, like claiming a stamina problem, but that would've stepped past making reasonable excuses and would've been easy to disprove. He had no trouble getting it up, and for the first time in his life, found something to mourn in that.

Piers accepted that, settling down. He didn't seem upset by it.

* * *

He shouldn't have thought that Piers was going to let it go. In point of fact, he had been a fool to think Piers would. Not two days later, Piers caught him in the bedroom with a mischievous grin. He was coaxed on his back in the bed and only figured out the body language when Piers' hand went to his crotch. He put his own hand on Piers' to remove it, but Piers took it for an encouragement and massaged his pants fold firmly.

His dick was a traitor to his mind, and Piers took the lead. He only sprung to action when Piers started working his pants open, and started drawing himself up.

"Wait, Piers—"

"I'm not asking you to take it!" Piers snapped, annoyed.

Jesus Christ, the lingo with this. Chris winced internally, but forced himself to stay calm and focused. "You don't have to do anything, Piers. I'm not asking you to," he said gently.

"But I want to," Piers said so sincerely it made Chris' heart clench. He ran his palm at the back of Piers' hair without considering how it appeared, and the next thing he knew, Piers had afforded him a wicked look and gone back to very firmly stirring interest that his brain didn't keep up with before ducking in and taking him in mouth.

But on a later thought, he still didn't know why he allowed Piers between his legs, even switched to a standing position by the bed with Piers seated when the initial position became too much of a strain to support.

"_Jesus_, Piers," Chris said afterward and hugged Piers to his chest. Piers nuzzled to him, contented.

**T.B.C.**

* * *

**As a standing reminder: reviews on any and all stories of mine are appreciated. Thanks!**

**Published **July 25, 2013.

**Countless thanks** to **Gypsie** for the beta'ing!


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